Out of the woods
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: It seems as though every story must begin in struggle, and darkness. A dragon to slay, a battle to be fought and a princess in need of rescue. co-authored with AlwaysCastle.
1. Prologue

**Co authored by AlwaysCastle and kimmiesjoy...**

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><p>"Once upon a time…"<p>

The most loaded sentence in the history of fiction. What springs from once upon a time are the love and happily ever after we all seek, and yet, life never promises a pot of gold. Life only promises the chance to achieve that lofty goal, the ability to make your stand at the moment of your own choosing, and when that moment comes, life makes no guarantee on the outcome. For the lucky few, they choose wisely and victoriously, and for others, they will find a road filled with defeat and darkness.

For that which makes it all the more worth while and meaningful, we cannot find. All stories must deviate from our true happiness, and show us first the pain and the darkness.

That is what we are taught, listening as children to the fairy tales woven by our protectors. Fairy tales provide a safe haven for us as children, they are stories that are guaranteed to end happily, and as we are swept away, we are comforted by the knowledge that no matter the obstacle or threat to our innocence, we are comforted by the safety of a tale born of what is right with the world. We can easily and freely believe. And that is comfort personified in a red cloak.

But when our protectors vanish before we are truly ready to have them leave... how do we learn to escape the darkness of the woods? How do we learn to listen to songbirds and walk amongst the flowers, when our storybook is closed in the middle of the forest surrounded by wolves, our protector slain and no one there to turn the page?

Maybe magic exists and wishes really do come true. But as we get older, these fairy tales no longer seem as real to us as they once did as children. As we mature, the stories we once held so dear, turn into nothing but tall tales and lies. It's as though the woodsman tore out our heart, and the things in the world that sparkle and shine with fairy dust aren't visible, we've been blinded and are unable to feel, or even see the magic of the world. It's not as easy to escape into Never-land once we have allowed the magic to fade away.

It is easier, rushing head long into the woods, into the woods and home before dark. Sometimes you don't make it home before darkness sets in. We find ourselves distracted and waylaid, tangled in inconsequential weeds that litter the edge of the path. And we often lose our way.

Perhaps you knew the way all along and this is the path you have chosen to take. You never expect the path to end up walling you in, as you trip and trail along it, skirting the flowers at the edge. You may even pick at the daisies as you go, but never deviating from your planned journey. You don't expect to look up and find your path has been cast in shadow; set in stone and now even if you wanted to, you can't stray from it.

The shadows of the castle walls are cast too long and too high for you to escape from their long and terrifying reach, but maybe that is how it's supposed to be.

It seems as though every story must begin in struggle, and darkness. A dragon to slay, a battle to be fought and a princess in need of rescue. You forge through it, overcome and end in tranquillity and peace, in light and joy.

But when the princess battles alone, and the dragons lurk in shadows, when the maiden comes home not to a loving woodsman but a wolf instead, when the knight in shining armour just isn't enough for the princess, isn't worthy of her attention, and certainly not her affections or love; the fairytale turns real.

There is no light, or magic. And the princess is not even that. She's not sleeping beauty, or snow white. She's just a woman, plagued by her own tragedy.

She does not believe anymore.

Tinkerbell is lying dead at her feet, and the woman is lost. She was left alone far too early in her life, a crucial element that would help her grow, and it's because of this, she does not know how to let the magic back in. Let alone the prince or the knight whose only wish is to protect and maybe give her his heart.

When this is the fairy tale you live, not one woven in magic and light, but one forged in secrets, loss and darkness, what hope do you hold of finding your happily ever after?

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><p><strong>AN: Once upon a time there were two writers, one was dark and twisty but luckily the other was her fairy godmother. The two looked at each other, and then forged ahead and into the woods. **

**We will need your reviews to guide us safely home.**


	2. Chapter One

**Fair warning**: This chapter delves deep into the personal grief of one of our beloved characters.

That being said, this story is co-authored by **AlwaysCastle **and **kimmiesjoy**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character..._

_Would you slow down? Or speed up?"_

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><p>Through the wrought metal of aged gates the trail wound, neatly edged and trimmed in grass, a lone figure walked. The pebbled stones beneath her feet spoke of her arrival, loud and harsh as she followed the solemn path.<p>

Swirling thick clouds of mist nipped at her heels as she tightened the red belt of her coat, warding off the chill. It was the way she moved, and the crimson of her coat, that made her stick out in the forest of trees surrounding the graves.

It made no difference, she would stand out there no matter what. The lone body, alive and breathing, whose blood still pumped in her barely beating heart, head tilted down as she walked amongst those who had gone...

Curling her fingers tight into her pockets she resisted the urge to reach out in greeting to each one she meandered past, her eyes dropping to every headstone, it's the only acknowledgement she gives them even if they each deserved something more...but she isn't here to mourn them, one grave stands out more than the rest and she would save her devotion for three rows ahead.

When she stepped off the path, the ground was cold and wet and she sunk into the damp grass, her step faltered slightly. She didn't have to count the headstones anymore, she knew the footsteps, the patterns in her own gait, the way her body moved until she arrived.

She fell to her knees, the mud cold and wet, seeped unnoticed to touch at her skin and her coat flowed out around her in a puddle of blood, severe against the gloom of the day, the dullness of her surroundings. With an aching in her chest, she dropped one hand to the stone she'd been seeking. Her light touch, betrayed by the knuckle white grip when she met the outer curve, was a silent greeting before she rested deeper into the damp, cold earth.

The woman dug her fingers into the dirt, clutching at the grass as if it were the fingers she longed to claim, the hand she wished still clasped her own. And all the while her eyes filled, she forced it back, swallowed it down and clung on still to the roots.

She did not dare let her eyes rest on the grave beneath her quivering hand. She couldn't bring herself to just yet.

Seeing was believing.

Looking upon it would only make this that much harder. Make it that much more real and tangible under her flesh. Digging her fingers into the mud gave the moment meaning, more so than words carved into stone, more so than anything she could utter from her lips. It would only fall on deaf ears, and the realization that her pleas would never be answered, would only break her further.

Instead, with empty eyes, she looked around at the dank cemetery.

Those eyes, sullen, and numb, lacking spark in the green and the brown, were drawn across the wind ruffled grass to the trees at the edge of the path. Eerily bent and twisted, dark as she was, and crowded with crows that screech out their despair in a way she had never been able to.

The aching melancholic call seemed deliberate, like they were seeking her attention, and they were watching; her presence disturbing their half hearted existence. She looked up as one called to her, as if guiding her to them and the mournful places they called home. The black bird stared down at her with dark almost menacing regard, looking upon her with a sort of doomed acceptance. She belonged there with them, forever the guardian of the dead.

They focused on her, perhaps reading the sorrow that flowed off her in agonizing waves. Feeding off her pain like the maggots of long buried memories that crawl from skin whenever she was drawn here. But she must. This was her path, however unpleasant it might be. Lined with graves and the long forgotten.

Her breath hitched, painful and unbearable in her throat when her eyes finally rested on the granite. It was cold beneath her fingers, stark, and it pulled whatever heat she had amassed from her body, sucked it from her very being like this place seemed to wash her free of emotion, it drained her and left her hollow.

As she sat there now, the way she had before, that day, when she watched them lower the casket into the ground. She waited there until the sun went down. She knows she will do it again, the urge will be there all the days after; because she sought out the ache in her chest. Opened the wound fresh on purpose every time, just so that she had something to revel in, to make her feel. She tortured herself to feel alive, because without these few stolen moments at her mothers graveside, she was an empty shell, devoid of life. She wanted the stabbing, jarring, jagged grief that laid waste in her soul. She grew to accept it now, as she let her forehead fall onto the stone before her.

This was her fate.

To forever grieve alone. To walk this lonely road of fear and dissolution as a young women who had yet to find herself. She was too young to be left to her own devises. At a crucial time in her life where she needed that guidance of her mother. But her mother was not there now. She lay. at rest, under the young woman's crumbling frame, but lost in the ground with her daughter wishing to trade places or just have her back .

Her life had taken a turn she had not expected, and now the weight of it was tearing her to pieces. She did not know what else to do.

She was lost. Never to be found, and, as the dark shadow crept over closer the longer she sat by her mothers fresh grave, she found her purpose.

There of all places, it came to her.

She will seek anyway she can to make sure no one else will suffer as she does now. No one should ever have to feel this much pain.

She will not forget her dead, the passing of life will forever be significant to her and her buried mother will not lay here, amongst the forgotten, a spectre of loss. There will be justice, there will be resolution and maybe together they will be the balm to her pain...one day.

With a new sense of where she felt like she ought to be, she lifted her head from the stone, frozen, and lifeless like the creeping chill in her soul. The shadow approached nearer. Nearly upon her now as she stood from the damp ground and brushed the soil from her knees and coat. Standing up straight, the woman took in a deep, ragged breath.

This was her fate.

And as she turned away, pulling her red hood over her dark hair, she walked headlong into the shadow, and let everything familiar disappear. The darkness for which she now stood for, slowed down everything around her.

But with a morbid sense of fascination and a desperate need she still didn't understand, she sped up and let the shadows swallow her whole.


	3. Chapter Two

This story is written by **AlwaysCastle **and **kimmiesjoy**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>.

"...He watched her from afar..he will do anything to keep her safe.

Even if it means facing his demons."

Gripping the pen tight within his hand he let the words flow freely from his mind, filling in line after line, writing as fast as possible, he wanted to get out of here quickly, go home to his family. He started to feel himself getting distracted, occasionally he felt his hand lift, happily he would allow it to cover his eyes, hide the work and the words from his concentrated gaze, before with a small shake of his head he threw himself back into the job.

It deserved his full attention and dedication, it was his path to salvation, and his way of making it right. If it meant missing a few hours at home, then he would make it up later, if it meant missing meals and yelling to get things moving, he would do it.

He would find resolution for the events that haunt his dreams, not forgiveness, because he doesn't deserve that, but if he can make it right somehow...

"Sir?" The lone Officer stood in his doorway, fingers poised over the glass, knuckles prepared to wrap, unless they had already and he had been too absorbed in his writing and forms to notice

He looked up, a sigh leaving his lips. "She's down there again?"

"Yes sir and you said you wanted to be informed if it happened aga..."

"I know, thank you."

"Do you want me to...?"

"No, no I got it." with one last glance at the forms, he stood up from the desk.

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><p>It was after hours and the only people lurking the halls of the empty precinct were a few guards, and a member of the janitorial staff. As he went, the shadows followed behind him, and the deeper he walked into the depths of the 12th, the darker it got. But he knew this place better than the back of his hand, and he should for the amount of time he had spent here recently, so he let the echo of his footfall, and the familiarity guide him.<p>

When he got to storage, his hand reached out in the darkness, lit only by the single swinging bulb down the hall, and as he let his hand rest on the knob, he realised it was already open. Any other time he would have been on alert, drawn his gun and taken the defensive stance. But tonight he actually shook his head at himself, and what he would find in there.

He pushed the door open further, stepping lightly inside. He was quiet as possible as he made his way through the stacks. Shelves upon shelves of old case files. Amongst these stacks were cases he had worked on as a rookie, newly trained and green, some even bore his signature on cases he worked as a rising Detective.

Some were solved, an entire investigation compiled into a single box, filled with evidence that had brought grieving families the justice they deserved. Others... he tried not to think about as he made his way farther along, not daring look at the cases. Because those others, were not so lucky. They had run cold, perhaps to never be solved, forever a mystery. He just hoped that there were more solved murders amongst all these lone boxes, than not. But he had a feeling, as he drew closer to his destination, that the solve rate would pick up.

He found her on the floor of the dusty archive room, boxes around her feet as she sat in the dark. A penlight was hanging from her mouth, pressed between her teeth as it lit the object that held her complete, and determined attention. She was sifting through stacks of paper, piles and piles of outdated notes on the same cold case she had been attacking every night for the last week.

He watched for a few minutes, taking in her dishevelled appearance. Her hair was hurriedly tied back, some strands had fallen loose, left ignored while her hands were otherwise busy with more important things. Her dark blue uniform was creased from sitting too long on the floor, and her shoes were tossed to one side, beat cop shoes, flat and practical, leaving her socked feet curled beneath her as she read.

He was fascinated watching her, by her quiet strength, her determination, her attention to detail as he observed her cross reference other cases, correlating data and lining things up. Next to her on the floor was a haphazardly thrown together timeline, it wasn't perfect but it did the job.

He shuffled closer. His feet loud enough to disturb her but not enough to truly scare her, he didn't want that anyway. She was an enticing picture of desperation and loss, lips moving silently as she went over something again. Her fingers were skimming frantically over words that she tried to make sense of, find the hidden meaning maybe. He saw the belief that the longer she stared, the longer her eyes strained to take it all in, perhaps the answer would pop out at her, just appear as if by magic.

It reminded him of himself, and other rookies and officers he'd seen before. Watching as they searched for the bigger picture. Found all the answers they were looking for as they stared down a fresh murder board. Only, for her, these pages, documents and scrawl, would not show her anything. He just didn't have the heart to tell her.

He couldn't turn her eye towards the futility of the activity, but he would give her the chance to find what she sought elsewhere. And as he glanced down at the notes at her feet again, he was amazed at how she worked. God she was good. With a little guidance and some training, she could channel this...drive into something that could make her feel at least half as fulfilled as she had obviously set out to be.

Witnessing this scene, to anyone else she would seem pathetic or obsessed. In need of help. But to him, she was more of a caged animal than a defenceless bird. Living in a world that sought to tear her down.

Instead of breaking as many had before, of falling prey to the wolves teeth, she had taken a different approach. In allowing her past to swallow her whole, she had walked headlong into the woods. For all it was worth, others would have given up.

She let it drive her.

Guide her in a more productive direction. And although the passion behind what she had set out to do, was the perfect ingredient for more than a lowly officer, it made for a damaged human being. And sadly she was too blind to see it.

He stepped closer, and looked down at her, not as a superior, but a father figure looking for someone to take under his wing. He couldn't think of anyone as worthy as her, not that his presence and guidance made her worthy, he sought only to rectify, to appease mistakes of the past.

It was selfish, but surely it didn't matter if they ended up helping each other?

He held out his hand, expecting her to look up or even startle in his presence, she did nothing.

"Officer Beckett?" She lifted her eyes, shadowed from lack of sleep, but she didn't jump. He watched her flick off the tiny pen light that illuminated nothing to satisfaction, and closed his eyes to the thunder crash of realisation she could be down here with a floodlight and still find nothing. She began twirling it briefly in her fingers, expertly from all the long nights he knew she spent here. Maybe even longer, before he was informed of her presence among the stacks.

She handed him the penlight as if that was what he wanted, her face resigned to being reprimanded. Watching her closely, the scrunched lips and narrowed eyes told him, whilst she would take the lecture and whatever discipline might be attached; her actions wouldn't change. And every night he would find her here again.

"Sir." She nodded her head and he couldn't help it, he smiled. The lack of fear was overtaken by her courage which was shining through her stubbornness. She stood her ground, silly girl, with no back up and no way to forge ahead, this was not the time or place, but she's young and she was grieving and her heart was still in pieces.

He could see that.

"My name is Captain Roy Montgomery," He said still holding out his hand, "I work up in homicide and I want to talk to you."


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

"_The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,_

_But I have promises to keep."_

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><p>She took a small amount of comfort in the four walls that surrounded her. Close, but not so much that they suffocated her. Her hands rested against the wall, solid and safe, fingers splayed out with her back pressing on them. All she could hear was the sound of her own heart beating over the quiet hum of the elevator as it rose, the pounding and flutter of nervousness against the walls of her chest. It was pumping the blood in a tingling flow of utter awareness through her entire body.<p>

When she arrived on her floor, the sudden ascent and fall of the elevator plummeted her resolve, dropping her heart into her stomach, before it settled. She had stepped away from the wall, wiped her hands over her red coat, and smoothed out her jeans.

She was not one to agonise over her wardrobe, but she hadn't known what to wear that day. She felt like whatever she put on would be statement of self, another step on the path she chose. It shouldn't matter, but it did.

She had stood in front of her closet, longer than ever before, clothes strewn everywhere before she finally found her outfit. Then she donned her red coat holstered her gun and hooked her badge to her belt.

She felt a sense of pride as the machine rose, but nothing could compare to what she felt when she heard the elevator ding announcing its arrival.

Her arrival.

Here, where she thought she was supposed to be.

The doors opened to the long stretch of hallway before her with a high pitched pang that pulled at the controlled anxiety within her. But as she was revealed to the waiting hoards, she took in a breath, it was deep and drawn out as she inhaled, pulling in all her anxiety, her fear, and exhaling her inner control.

Summoning her strength.

Collected, she stepped off, letting her determination guide her. The sound of her movements were harsh but powerful, a stable rhythm, sure and unwavering strides of her long legs. Each echoed step of her heeled feet were followed by a growing will to do what was right.

Kate knew in her heart this was the path she had to walk and for once her resolve didn't feel forced or contrived. For the first time in a long time, she felt sure.

Somehow the sharp click sent a thrill through her with each step. Her courage building with each footfall, the echo of the action the only sound she registered as she moved along.

With her eyes planted firmly on the desk, her desk, Kate made her way across the bullpen. Her spine straightening as she moved, drawing in the atmosphere of the room, flooding her senses with purpose and meaning. And though her heels were drowned out by the calls back and forth, the hum of conversation and the chiming of phones, her step nor her courage faltered.

She was here to do her job, and do it to the best of her ability.

Kate Beckett, would speak for the dead. She would be their witness, their voice that was stolen away. But, maybe more significantly, she would help families to find that peace and closure she had too long been denied.

Reaching her desk she unbuttoned her coat, the red stark amidst a sea of muted colours as she removed it, laying it over the back of her chair. Kate sat heavily in the seat, groaning as the addition of her slender form sent the already broken device sinking deeply into the floor.

Hearing snickers from behind her, Kate rose her to her feet, turning on the other Detectives rolling her eyes. "Funny." She said scrunching her lips to one side before giving in and smiling. Tentative in the action but she faced the teasing head on, she had been warned, and she was ready.

She turned slowly back towards her desk, watching the older of the two men approach her. He gestured towards the name plaque that rested by her monitor.

"Beckett right? The Captains protégé? Be careful of the drawers." He waved his hand in a broad sweep over her desktop, smiling maliciously.

She nodded preparing to embark on her first ever investigation as a Detective, learning the names of the members of her team. When a voice from behind drew her attention.

"Initiating the new guy, comes with job." The older woman stood, shrugging into her coat as she went. "I'll leave you in their capable hands." She nodded towards the rest of the group "I gotta hit the M.E's office. See what he's got for me."

"You hear he's retiring?" One of the men said falling heavily into his own chair.

"Yeah next month, another newbie." The other man snarked.

Kate felt every eye in the room suddenly focus on her, fighting the rising sense of panic. She resumed adjusting the chair, noticing a screw loose and tightening it. She kept her focus firmly away from the team rousing that continued behind her.

She belonged here, she could feel it. And as she continued to fix the chair, she caught sight of feet, heard the hush fall over the rowdy Detectives, she rose from the floor in confusion.

She turned, tried to ignore the look of disapproval he was flashing the men behind her. His voice held her attention as he stepped amongst them. The Captains demeanour changed  
>drastically when her looked at her. Instead of disappointment on his face at their behaviour, he was smiling widely at her. "Congratulations Detective Beckett." He said with a spark in his eyes.<p>

Kate smiled back nodding her head. "Thank you Sir."

"Here." The Captain's hand extended with his offering, white and blue, an empty NYPD coffee mug. "We work long hours."

Kate nodded again, taking the ceramic cup and turning it over in her hands, her fingers seeking the warmth it lacked.

"It's a tough job Beckett." The Captain pointed towards the mug again, "I have a feeling you'll make good use of it."


	5. Chapter Four

**Co authored by AlwaysCastle and kimmiesjoy...**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

"_And miles to go before I sleep,_

_And miles to go before I sleep."_

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><p>Kate stood outside the building, steeling herself as she looked up, wondering what she could possibly find in there tonight. She played through the different scenarios in her head, it was a routine of hers, one she knew she should abandon.<p>

She sighed heavily as she let herself into the building one handed, while she carried groceries in the other arm.

It didn't matter how many years past, the habit was too ingrained now. The memories still too fresh.

Slowing to catch the door, she let it bump against her back before it clicked shut. Kate closed her eyes, finding the facade she normally saved for the job, drawing it around her. She released the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding, trying to ignore the burn in her lungs before she moved into the building.

She would never come here now without expecting the worst.

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><p><em>The tenants were loud this time of night, as she ascended the stairs. Though, she was quite sure he was hearing none of it. A TV blaring followed her up in an echo that eventually petered out to a small hum amongst the neighbours on his floor three doors down, who were yelling at one another. She pounded on their door on the way by, as she always did, and they shut right up.<em>

_She heard nothing when she got to his apartment, stood outside it for a long moment preparing herself. It didn't matter how many time she saw him like this. It would forever be ingrained in her memory...along with the mistrust._

_But she came here time and again to check up on him. Because despite his failures, he was still her father. She just didn't trust him anymore when he told her he would sober up, and then the next week be passed out on his living room floor._

_She drew in a long breath, finding herself. Letting her new status wash over her and give her strength as she let herself into his apartment. It was dark, Of course. The only light in the place was a small lamp up ended in the corner of the living room._

_Setting the bags on the kitchen table, Kate turned on a few lights. When she didn't see him right away, she started to become fully aware of her heartbeat. The trickle of awareness she often felt when coming here, only this time, it seemed personified._

_Moving further into his apartment her feet crunched on a broken bottle, and the smell wafted up her nose as she drew closer. This was also nothing new. So she thought nothing else of it, if not rolled her eyes when she saw him face down on the floor of his messy bedroom._

_She sighed. Collecting several bottles from around him, throwing them out and then retrieving a damp washcloth before kneeling at his side. "Dad, come on." She coaxed, wiping the cool cloth over his face._

_He didn't move._

_"Dad." She said again, patting his face a few times. He didn't move, didn't flinch away when her slap to his cheek became more fierce, desperate even._

_"Dad." Her voice became more hysterical the longer he didn't respond. And the fear started to grip her, her worst nightmare._

_Her heart clenched tightly in her chest and she could feel her own pulse thrumming through every inch of her skin, ice creeping through her, becoming unbearable. It trickled panic through her veins, freezing her blood when she bent her ear to his mouth. No air met the outer shell of her ear, nor the sound of light breathing._

_"Daddy?" Her voice broke around the word she hadn't spoken since the night they came home to a Detective on the doorstep. The night her world had fallen apart._

_Somewhere in the haze of panic and confusion Kate remembered her medic training. Because what is the point of the training and learning to save someone's life, if you can't focus and use it when the someone you have to save is the most important person in your life?_

_Your last lifeline._

_Kate rolled her father towards her, shallow breaths leaving her chest. Forcing her fingers under his jaw, she pressed them hard against his jugular. The tips crushed against the bone of his jaw, pressing as hard as she could, no doubt bruising, no longer caring._

_Nothing._

_"Please no." She whimpered, frantically undoing the buttons of his shirt, stripping her father on the floor of his bedroom, like he was child._

_With his chest now bare, Kate set her hands at his breast bone, hand over the other and fingers interlaced. With a quick glance at his face, she pushed down, counting each one as she went._

_One, two, three, pushing down hard on his heart, forcing it to beat. Each deep compression of his chest counted off in her head, something to focus on so she couldn't feel it._

_Kate paused, wiping her hand across his mouth before leaning her head over his. Nothing still. And nothing for it._

_Kate angled her father's head, lifted his chin and leaned in sealing her mouth over his. Blowing hard and fast to fill his lungs, inflating a balloon that's what they said. She imagined the balloon before her, not the man._

_She blew hard, deeply into his chest watching it rise. But it was no use._

_"Come on." She said, gritting her teeth and starting with her compressions again. One two three. She continued counting in her head, the force of her determination driving life into him._

_Kate went through the motions, each action keeping her moving but her mind was filled with the voice of youth, her younger self screaming at her 'don't let my daddy die.'_

_Her ear went over his mouth, and a sigh of relief flooded through her when she was met with a small puff of air. She sat back on her heels, gathering herself and then pressed her fingers to his jugular._

_The tiniest of thuds against her fingertips kicked her into high gear, and Kate crawled up beside her father cradling his head as she sought his pulse once again. The thudding of his alcoholic heart was there. Weak, erratic, but there._

_She needed to monitor it, keep track._

_Kate spotted the watch on her father's wrist, yanking it from him and raising it up so she could see. With one hand on his pulse, she watched as the tiny second hand ticked by. As she kept a steady vigil, Kate felt for the evening out of his pulse. She counted through the minutes, adding the beats up as she watched the time tick past._

_Leaning over him, Kate listened again, the breath that left his chest, coming now, erratic, like his pulse, but it was there. Stronger._

_Her panic showed her the things she feared, but now she was focused on something, she felt the fog lift. Counting the beats of his heart helped Kate to see the reality. Her vision narrowed, blocking out every feeling and emotion that would cloud her judgement._

_Kate slipped the watch onto her own wrist, twisting it upside down so she could watch the gauge and still hold her father's head._

_"I got into the Police Academy dad," she mumbled as the darkness of the room settled in around them. "Just thought you might like to know." Kate sighed heavily, trying to get as comfortable as she could on the floor of his bedroom. She reached for his hand, as angry as she was, seeking to comfort him, her fingers slipping inside his._

_Kate pulled back her hand in shock, the small circular ring her father had proposed to her mother with, clattered to the floor. The sound echoed in the room, and ricochet deep in her soul. Kate gasped, her hand flying to her mouth and her eyes darting to the ring, and then to her father now breathing normally on the floor beside her._

_Tentatively she reached for it, the cool metal grasped between shaking fingers. She dropped it into the palm of her hand, staring at it. Glancing at her father again, she let her fingers fold around the ring, clutching it so tightly she could feel the bezel dig into her flesh._

_Kate rose from the floor, collecting a pillow from the bed, turning him onto his side and tucking the pillow behind his head to keep him place. She draped a blanket over him carefully. And as she stood in his doorway, looking upon the broken man who was her father, she slipped the ring into her pocket, and vowed she would never let herself feel as he did. She would never fully give herself over to love if this was the consequence._

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><p>Kate clutched at the ring deep in her pocket as she knocked on his door. She controlled her breathing as best she could, but her chest felt tight, skin quivering and anxiety rising as the seconds ticked by. She felt like she stood there too long. And the longer she thought this, the worse she became.<p>

She didn't realise her eyes were closed until he spoke with question. "Katie?"

"Dad!" She startled, nearly losing the groceries as she jumped, righting herself at the last moment as she caught the paper bag.

His brow creased, right between the eyes as hers often did. "You all right?"

She bit back a response to ask him the same thing. But when she finally focused she could see that he was. More than all right, and as he coaxed her into his apartment, Kate let a smile form on her face.

"I am good Dad." She replied when he shut the door.

He took the bag from her, setting it aside. "I have something for you." He said, embracing her, talking softly into her hair before letting go.

She looked around his apartment. Tidy. Not a bottle in sight. "Oh?" She asked removing her red coat and hanging it on the rack by the door.

"I'm proud of you Katie." He said tenderly, extending a hand "I might not say it often enough but I..."

"I know dad." She interrupted moving to join him on the couch. Kate smiled softly at him as she tucked her hand into his own.

"I know since...that night you've carried her ring with you Katie." He squeezed gently at her fingers. "And I understand why you won't wear it."

Kate felt herself tense, waiting for her father to ask for the ring back.

"So I got this for you." Kate watched his face before she glanced down as her father placed a small box in her lap. "I understand you want a piece of her with you out there." He opened the box and pulled out a silver chain. He held out his hand, waiting for the ring, and even though she knew what he planned to do with it handing it over was harder than she expected.

"I bought it long, so you can tuck it in." Her father smiled as he slipped the band onto the chain and re-did the clasp. He handed it back without a second thought. "It's understandable that you take her with you on the job Katie, you loved her."

Kate looked down at the chain in her hand, "I take you with me too Dad." She said quietly, pushing her sleeve up to reveal his watch.

"I wasn't..." He stuttered "You still wear it?"

Kate nodded running her fingers over the face of the watch. "For the life I saved." She whispered and looked to her father, who smiled thoughtfully at her.

And as she brought the chain over her head, letting the cool metal rest against her skin. Father and daughter looked to each other... neither spoke of the life they had lost. For the life they will never forget, lives on as a constant reminder of her death, in the ring Kate would always carry with her. Unaware of the weight that would eventually become too much.


	6. Chapter Five

**This story was Co - Authored by AlwaysCastle and kimmiesjoy**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five.<strong>

_"Like a tree blowing in the wind, friendships can bend and waver,_

_yet they will both remain standing if they have strong roots."_

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><p>The coffee, if you could call it that, was the most ridiculous thing she had ever come across, ever tasted, but Kate poured herself another cup because it was strong. Strong was what she needed, something to give her a little zing to her step and keep her moving. Keep her awake.<p>

The day was a total wash. She had spent most of the morning holding the hand of a less than coherent witness whilst the rest of the team had worked leads in the field. After the first two hours, she was about ready to pull her hair out. Strand by painful strand.

Holding someone else together was tiring, the job was tiring. And she realised, Detective Kate Beckett on less than 6 hours sleep, was not the most pleasant of people. In fact the mug upon mug of police issued coffee was as weak as pi...

"Here you are Detective Beckett." A uniformed officer appeared at her side and handed her a folder. "The Captain said..."

"What?" Beckett growled, between clenched teeth. Feeling her eyes narrow and her lips pressed together, it was a look that had been steadily becoming a habit, one she would have to break before she got a reputation for glaring at people.

The man's voice fell away, his mouth dropping open. The scared look on his face made her irritated and she inclined her head with a raised eyebrow, waiting.

"He..." He started, stammering a little. " Said the new M.E wants to talk with someone on the Randolph case, annnd." His eyes are shifty as she continued to stare at him. "Everyone else is in the field so he...he said for you to go." His voice quivered and he tried to keep eye contact, nearly failing.

"Really?" She said standing up holding fast to the case file "Alone?" She was shocked, but mostly excited about this new assignment.

The Uni smiled at her, taken aback by the sudden lift, the brightening of character as the Detective was given something meaningful to do. A purpose adding to her poise.

"The Captain also said to give you this." He handed her a napkin covered bearclaw ,"said you looked like you needed the sugar."

She glanced down at the pastry in her hand and back to the Uni, not caring. She was thrilled, motivated even, now she had a task to work towards.

"So..." She said folding the treat away on her stack of paperwork and grabbing her coat. "Who and where?"

"M.E's office in the morgue and you're looking for a Dr. Parish."

"She's the new one?"

"Yeah fresh meat just like yo..." The man stopped himself just in time, but no quite fast enough as Beckett felt her eyes narrow, her brow knit together again as she stared him down.

Breaking the habit was going to be harder than she thought.

The smell of various chemicals assaulted her nose before she even truly got there. It was like being in a hospital with the latex smell and scent of cleaning products, only the morgue wasn't full of dying people. These victims were already dead, and as Kate pushed her way through the double doors, she was met with yet another scent.

Death.

She resisted the urge to cover her nose against the stench, a habit she picked up during her rookie days. Never in her life had she imagined she would have to become accustomed to such things. But she was still new to all this, hiding her body's reactions from those around her, even if the sight itself was one she had been confronted with before. But there were still some things she didn't want to see.

After long hours up in the bullpen, the smell of stale coffee in the air did nothing to prepare her for the stench of burning flesh that assailed her senses the moment she walked through the door. She felt the acid rise in her stomach, the bile eating away at her empty stomach. Her fingers strayed to the chain around her neck, gripping the metal tight within her fingers to ground herself.

She had yet to witness an actual crime scene as a Detective, having been stuck doing paperwork and looking over the murder board the first week. Being asked to come down here was a new privilege. A privilege that made her want to throw the bearclaw out, and not drink coffee for a week.

What she did not expect when she walked in, was an M.E. who was not even in sight. The only thing Kate saw, was a fully exposed dead man on a slab, surrounded by two other empty exam tables and a cart of surgical instruments. Kate was too busy staring at what appeared to be a burn victim, to notice the M.E walk in.

With her clipboard in one hand and a Styrofoam cup in the other, the Medical examiner appeared through the swinging double doors. Her head was down, focused on whatever she was reading as she started barking orders at the techs she assumed were in the room.

"I want that new Detective down here ASAP with my forms." She snapped with a shake of her head as she mumbled on, "wasting my time like I don't have three bodies waiting on my slab." The tiny woman lifted her head and stopped dead, staring at Kate who was grimacing at the dead man. "Who the hell are you?"

Kate turned from the body, trying to dial in her disgust. "The detective you don't have time for, Beckett." Kate said a little taken by this abrasive woman wearing scrubs, but she still held out a hand.

The M.E glanced down at Beckett's shoes and back up to her face, her eyes scrunching as she shifted the clipboard to free her hand. "You sure you're a Detective?" She asked one eyebrow quirked and extending her hand, "Cos girl," she bounced her head to one side, hair falling along with the enthusiasm at the same time as she pointed at Kate's high heels, "your shoes are not made for," She swirls her finger around in a circle and tossing her hair again, "running down the freaks and weirdos of our fine city."

Kate gripped the hand that wasn't moving frantically about, that crease she would soon become known for evident between her eyes. She shook The M.E.'s hand firmly before dropping it as soon as she could. Not sure what to make of her. "And You're the medical examiner?" Kate looked the other woman up and down. She didn't look like a lab rat. She looked more like someone.. well Kate was not sure. But definitely not the type of woman who cuts open dead bodies all day.

The sassy M.E. withdrew her hand, took a step back as the Detective, without embarrassment, scrutinized her with a narrowed and penetrating gaze. She felt it put the other woman on edge, so she stepped around her, giving her a bit of space.

Now on the other side, with a dead man between them, Lanie could see this young detective was far too attractive and put together to be down here in the depths of the building. She looked down at the burn victim, shook her head and covered him up with a sheet.

She could surely give Lanie a run for her money, but instead of butting heads with this woman, Lanie decided to let it go. "Are those for me, Detective?" She asked pointing at the case files held firmly in Beckett's hand, like she was loathe to relinquish them, as if they held power she didn't want to give up..

Kate looked down at her hands. The bearclaw, now completely unappealing, in one, and the files in the other. She looked back up at the M.E. and came to a conclusion. "Beckett." She said offering the beautiful doctor the bearclaw first, realizing that this woman might be her only ally she could have in this place aside from the Captain.

The other woman regarded her for a moment before she smiled. "Lanie." She offered hopping up onto a stool and leaning across the table. She lifted the coffee cup to her mouth, thought better of it and lowered it to the table pushing it away. "You know? They told me drinking this stuff would keep me going for the late shift. All it does is make me snappy and very aware of my heart beat."

Kate laughed. "I know what you mean, but it keeps me awake... long hours... even if it does taste like battery acid." Kate defuses, her body less tense now that she's holding a less tension filled conversation.

Lanie laughed swishing her shoulder length black hair out of her face. "Nice comparison, I will avoid asking how you know what _that_ tastes like." Her voice dipped and she peered at Kate teasingly through her eyelashes.

"Oh please, I remember being at this really risqué night club and my friend handed me the worst drink I have ever had, tasted like, well I couldn't tell you, but I drank it anyway because at a certain point, it just doesn't matter as long as you're having a good time."

Lanie laughed again, but nodded approvingly.. "Sounds like you can handle your drinks Beckett, I have to say I'm impressed." She grinned, "Though I would need proof to believe you, I mean look at your skinny ass!" Lanie looked sceptical. " I could drink you under the table."

Kate snorted, crossing her arms. "You're on."

Lifting her hand to her eyes, Lanie rubbed at them, "God this does nothing for me." She pushed the cup away. "I need sugar, and I know a place if you're interested? Little late night bar hopping?"

Kate thought about it for a moment. She was tired, oh so tired. But she also hadn't had a true night out since her rookie days. And, Lanie seemed like just the person to go out with. "Name the place." Kate replied, a smile on her face as she hopped onto a nearby exam table, putting aside her aversion to the smell of charred flesh with a scrunch of her nose, keeping her eyes focused on the saucy M.E..

Lanie could hear the challenge in the other woman's voice, rising to it she gave her a sly grin "The Old Haunt it's..."

"The writer bar?" Kate tilted her head to one side.

"Oh you know it?" Lanie's voice pitched in excitement.

"Not from experience, but.." Kate made a face.

"You got a thing against writers?" Lanie laughed.

Kate's mind drifted to her bookshelf full of a particular writers books. "No.. Just... not my style."

"Well, I know a club," She looked at her again, tilting her head, make or break time for the woman before her. "It gets a little...rough." Lanie raised her eyebrows, and the corners of her mouth lifted deviously.

Kate bit down on her lip, her eyes becoming mischievous. "I can do rough." She replied. "It's just been a while, that's all." Kate started fiddling with something on her wrist.

"Time to get back on that bike girl." She flipped open the folder, looking at Beckett at the corner of her eye as she read the report.

"Oh believe me. I know all about bikes." Kate laughed thinking about her soft-tail parked outside the precinct. She smirked and took the coffee Lanie didn't want.

Lanie glared at Beckett, before she reached over her folder for the discarded bearclaw, a trade made in silent agreement. Taking a bite she chewed and swallowed, her eyes never leaving the Detective. She watched as the woman looked away, worrying her lip between her teeth again.

The tiny M.E unleashed the full force of her warm and welcoming smile on the anxious Detective. Lanie patted the seat before shoving the other stool towards her as she spoke, "I sense a story."


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N: **Apologies for such a long gap between posts, lets give this another whirl!

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

"_She was a beauty nightmare_

_She flies beyond this darkness_

_The scapegoat of death faking to be alive."_

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><p>She tapped her foot anxiously as she stood with her arms crossed tightly over a book keeping it close to her heart, tucked tightly into her chest. No one could pry the thing from her arms even if they tried. It should be a source of strength, of comfort. But instead, her partner, who stood a bit behind her sighing loudly every now and then showing his obvious distaste, mocked her for it.<p>

It was a long wait; she had known that when she arrived, this was a popular place to be today judging by the crowd. She wouldn't have minded standing alone, in fact the longer she stood, the more she realized she had had no good reason to invite him along in the first place.

It seemed to have occurred to him too and he proceeded to tease her about being here every few minutes, getting glares from all the other people around them as he did so. He didn't bother to keep his voice down as made degrading and painful comments, laughing at himself as he did.

He just didn't get it; her reason for being here went beyond the fangirling need of those around her. He didn't understand, but worse than that, he didn't even try to.

"Did you see that woman over there?" He said, poking her shoulder and throwing his thumb back towards a woman older than herself, who looked near to tears as they moved up in line. He snickered as he shook his head and mumbled something about being pathetic.

"Shh." She hissed out at him, not even bothering to look back, her eyes on the real reason she was here. She was too focused, watching as a man sat behind a table stacked with dozens of his books, signing each one for a fan whilst giving them his dazzling smile.

"Oh come on, Kate." He whined at her, a chuckle deep in his throat as he pushed on her a little.

Kate spun around, "Will, go home if you don't want to be here!" She yelled at him, trying to keep her voice down but he's been irritating the crap out of her for the last three hours.

He doesn't think he even needs to try. This is the problem. He's not bothering anymore. And she'd rather not invest her time in someone who's just not in it...

"Fine." He said, jaw clenching as he stared down the reason for her attentions today, and then back down at her. "You know, I wanted to spend time with you today, but obviously I'm not as important as this!" He poked hard at the book she holds too tightly before he stalked off, leaving her standing there in the middle of the line of her favourite bookstore.

As Will walked away Kate could feel the burning gaze of those in the queue with her, the waves of pity that she tried to ignore.

The man was an ass.

She growled, moving forward with the line, as her eyes darted to the man at the desk poised with the pen in his hand. The woman in front of him was laughing pulling down the corner of her top as she leant over.

When the author moved over the table he smiled widely his eyes flitting along the line of waiting fans, catching Kate's eye briefly before he moved on. She swallowed thickly holding on tighter to her mother's book. Kate smiled, no matter what just happened with Will she made the right decision coming here today, and she wouldn't be anywhere else.

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><p>"Kate, you...can make it out to Kate." She said sliding the open book across the table towards him, keeping her eyes firmly on the table. It was harder than she expected, relinquishing her hold on her mother's book, even to the man who had created the world within it, and her fingers lingered on the cover.<p>

She thumbed the crinkled corner, remembering her mother doing the same, but before she could fall too far into memories something warm brushed the back of her hand and she startled upright, her eyes wide.

He was good, she gave him that, pretended not to see her jump as he dragged her book closer to himself, "Did you say Kate?" He lifted his head, found her face with his eyes too blue, too gentle and she nodded unable to speak.

Kate stood mutely watching his strong fingers, the loop and flourish of words fly across the inside cover, for moment she felt a tinge of regret. Something akin to sadness as he marked an object cherished by her mother. But as quick as it flared through her chest, it faded away.

"Not yours?" He asked, tilting his head to one side as he signed his name, tapping the book knowingly. The corners curling, aged with love and regular re-reading, but the way she clung to the book betrayed its ownership.

"My...mothers." She said, not believing her own voice could sound that faded, flooded with that hopeless dip she couldn't seem to help. She cleared her throat as if that would help, as if it would pull back the pathetic edge of her voice, the sad lilt.

"She a fan?" He questioned, ignoring it, oblivious to it? She couldn't tell, she hoped it was the former. He wrote with such feeling and depth he couldn't truly be that unaware of pain when it was this close to him, this obvious in her voice.

Closing the cover and sliding the book back across the tabletop to her with a smile, she realised of course he wasn't, he was being polite. Reverent even, for something...someone he had no way of understanding.

"She...was." Kate felt her eyes flick upwards, darting on their own to see his reaction. Would he understand? Would he acknowledge it?

"I'm sorry." He met her halfway then, lifting the book and holding it out for her as she reached for it, their hands connecting on opposite sides of the book that held Kate's salvation...her escape.

And perhaps he knew that too; as he seemed to have paused, watching her as she stared at the front cover, saw the way he held the book out to her. Gripping it from spine to old worn pages, delicately, almost as if he himself was afraid to break it, tarnish the memories bound in this book that were not just his own, but hers as well.

Someone cleared their throat behind her, and Kate turned slightly, pivoting her body without moving her feet, nor her hands that still kept her linked to Richard Castle. When she looked back at him, her lip between her teeth he gave her a wink and a shrug of his shoulders before releasing the book.

"Um...Thank you." She said to him with a small nod of her head, clearing her throat and finally pulling her book towards her, not caring how it looked as she hugged it to her chest and turned away from the table.

There was a small pause before he actually spoke, and she was nearly halfway down the line, "You're very welcome, Kate." He called to her, just as she let her book fall across one arm, a falter in her step as it bared its written soul to her.

Her name, with his signature underneath. It amounted to hardly anything, nothing really, but as she ran her thumb across the barely dry ink, she realised it was enough.

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><p>She turned the key in the lock, a smile permanently on her face since she left the bookstore. But it was soon wiped clean off when she saw what stood before her in her kitchen.<p>

Suitcases and bags.

He came out of the bedroom then, slinging a jacket over his shoulder and stopped when he saw her standing in the open doorway. His brow was creased, and it smoothed out just a little as their eyes locked. But she couldn't stand to look at him, shutting the door behind her, and moving past him to her bookshelf.

"Kate." He said dropping his coat and following her.

"You took the job." She stated, pushing the book gently into its proper place and straightening.

"Yes." He replied.

She smoothed her hand into her hair, clutching at her roots as she looked at him. "Then go."

He sighed, "Kate...you knew it was only a matter of time...you...you can still come with me."

She scoffed shaking her head at him, "We both know that won't work...it's not working now." She added, releasing her hair and throwing both arms out before letting them clap at her sides.

"And whose fault is that?" He asked, turning suddenly on the spot, his voice rising in anger.

She pointed a vicious finger at him, "Oh don't you lay this all on me!" She shouted. "You took the job so you can run."

"Really Kate? Is that what I'm doing, running away?"

She crossed her arms, standing her ground.

"Oh that's rich. Coming from you, of all people." He snorted, shaking his head and bringing a hand up to his forehead.

"ME!" Kate cringed in disgust as he brushed past her again, "I am not the one moving to another state to escape!"

"You're..." He shook his head again, "Me taking the job has nothing to do with you...and your...issues."

"Will." She warned through gritted teeth, her hands clenching wildly at her sides.

"What?" He asked, shrugging with feigned innocence. "Not say the one thing that has gotten in the way of us… and you living your life?"

"Do. Not bring her into this!" She bit out, giving him fair warning.

"It all boils down to your mother."

Her eyes flashed with severity and pain before she stole across the space between them, and shoved him, hard. "I said Don't." She barked as her hand collided with his chest.

He threw his arms up, pushing her hand away from him, "you need help." He snarled, "You swim through this closed off, cracked little existence. You don't live, you don't let me in and you won't come with me when I want..."

"You should leave." She said quietly, forcing her eyes not to linger on his already packed bags.

Why hadn't he just ... gone?

With his jaw clenched, he stared her down for just a moment before turning away and snatching up his things. "I'm not enough for you am I?" He finally asked, the reason for his slow exit from her life suddenly becoming clear.

He couldn't fade into nothing; he needed the end to hurt...the break to be final and severe.

Fine.

"No, you're not..." She replied with brutal honesty. "But the thing is...I don't want you to be." She dragged her hand through her hair roughly, "I don't want you."

He nodded his head, as if it's what he expected. And he said nothing more, fisting his bags in his hands and moving towards the door.

Kate kept her resolve as he turned back, fishing his keys from his pocket, and tossing hers onto the kitchen counter. She held firm, keeping her emotions in check until the moment he slammed the door behind him. And then, only then when she heard the ding of the elevator down the hallway, did she let herself crumple to the floor in tears.


End file.
